


Barbecue

by robotboy



Series: Butterscotch [16]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Disabled Character, Deaf Character, Fluff, Fourth of July, M/M, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 14:46:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19466206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotboy/pseuds/robotboy
Summary: Flint loves revolution and Silver loves sausages: the final instalment of the Butterscotch series.





	Barbecue

**Author's Note:**

> [A moodboard.](https://r0b0tb0y.tumblr.com/post/186034833017/barbecue-the-final-instalment-of-butterscotch)

Madi’s family home is up in the hills, with a sprawling yard that looks out over the bay. Long tables with mismatched chairs are set on the flattest parts of the lawn. Scott is supervising the bonfire further out, having summoned a small army of sticky children wielding marshmallow forks. Queen is in front of an enormous barbecue, turning burgers and ribs with enviable patience. It smells so good, Silver is going to levitate.

Madi brings beer from the cooler, distributing them to Silver, Thomas, and Flint. They clink their bottles together.

 _You’re lucky the weather turned,_ Thomas comments, flashing a look at Flint.

Madi nods, but adds: _Humid._

It’s been a stormy summer. But the skies cleared yesterday, and Madi promised that the fireworks look amazing this far above the city. The beer is chilly and the evening is warm, and the twilight is offset by dozens of candles in jars. Silver sneaks his pinky finger around Flint’s, breathing deep. Fresh cut grass, woodsmoke, and the hint of another thunderstorm fill his senses.

 _It’s nice to be surrounded by green again,_ Thomas says.

 _Really?_ Silver tries not to look worried.

 _Mercy Pines wasn’t a home to me, but I was at home with it_ , Thomas shrugs, gesturing at the trees. _This is what I‘ve been used to. And it’s pretty._

It is. Flint is frowning like he’s worried he’s stolen Thomas away and imprisoned him in a townhouse. Thomas flicks Flint’s chin, and a look passes between them. Flint stops frowning.

 _I missed being around children,_ Thomas smiles at the crowd around the bonfire. _I don’t miss that place, but I miss having students._

 _Well,_ Madi says. _Maybe not for long._

 _What?_ Flint asks.

 _Just something we were spitballing,_ Madi invents a vivid gesture for ‘spitballing.’ _There are ASL classes for Hearing adults, but none for children. I’ve been talking to the community centre about it._

 _I’m not properly accredited..._ Thomas says. _But it’s an idea._

 _You two are in cahoots,_ Silver accuses them _. You barely spoke the same language when you met, and you’re cahooting._

 _I don’t know what I expected,_ Flint glares, but fondly.

 _Why don’t we go say hello to them?_ Madi offers Thomas.

 _I_ ** _do_** _make a mean s’more_ , Thomas grins. They venture down to the bonfire, and soon Thomas is subsumed in a flock of small people.

 _Did you ever want kids?_ Silver asks.

 _No,_ Flint answers. _Nor did Miranda, and Thomas always said he had plenty of them at work. Do you?_

Silver takes a swig of beer, considering. _I like them. But I don’t know if I’m father material._

 _You dote on Ink,_ Flint points out.

 _A cat is about my speed,_ Silver admits.

 _Mine too,_ Flint clinks their bottles together, taking a drink and putting his beer down. _I think, after losing Thomas—maybe_ ** _before_** _, god knows I was a bastard back then too—I got… hard to love,_ Flint says. _I know that._

 _You’re not hard to love at all,_ Silver argues. _I fell in love with you without even realising until it happened._

 _It’s just… losing him. It made me someone I didn’t like,_ Flint hunches in on himself as he says it. _It was hard to see why someone else would._

 _Well, he’s back now,_ Silver tries for levity, and misses the mark.

 _But that’s not how it works_. _I still lost him: I’m still the person that happened to,_ Flint shakes his head. _I’m someone else now. Someone who loves both him and you._

Silver squeezes his hand tightly. Flint squeezes back, before continuing:

 _When you found him, I kept thinking: what if we’d looked for him earlier? What if Miranda and I were still together? What if it never happened, and we’d stayed in England?_ Flint swallows, looking up at the sky for a moment before coming back to Silver. _And in all those stories… none have_ ** _you_** _in them. No matter which one I get caught up in, in the end, I want the one that has you in it._

Silver blinks rapidly. The air is getting smoky, which is a fair excuse for the tears in his eyes. Flint knows exactly why they’re there. He cups Silver’s face, leaning in to kiss his forehead. Silver lingers a moment, breathing the night air, his hand forming an I-L-Y. Flint hugs him, and asks:

_You want a hot dog?_

**_So_** _much,_ Silver goes weak at the knees. He and Flint shuffle through the cluster of people around the barbecue. Queen loads them up with hot dogs and Silver makes a face when Flint covers his in mustard, but his hands are full so he can’t express the depths of his disgust. Flint knows this, and smirks at him. They wolf down the food, and Silver catches Flint peering at something behind him. He looks in the same direction, and spots Madi sidling by them with all the subtlety of a neon elephant.

 _What?_ Silver signs at her.

 _Nothing!_ she comes over, watching as Flint slowly releases Silver from the hug. She hesitates a moment before coming over. _I wanted to show you something. If you’re not busy._

 _We’re not,_ Flint answers for them.

She leads them away from the party, past a shed in a quiet corner of the yard. The ground gets squelchy under Silver’s feet as they clamber down a slope into thicker trees. Ahead of them, Silver can see faint lights—a neighbour’s party? He opens his mouth to ask just as Flint gasps.

 _Have you seen them before?_ Madi asks.

 _No,_ Flint tells her, then he can’t keep his eyes off the glade.

It’s almost too dark to sign. Silver looks out again. Flitting among the trees are little gold lights. Silver takes a moment to adjust, and then to realise what he’s seeing.

‘Fireflies?’ he breathes.

‘Only happens if there’s heavy rain in summer,’ Madi explains. ‘We’re lucky. It’s a lucky night.’

Silver wraps his arms around Flint, tucking his chin into Flint’s shoulder. Flint reaches out a hand like he can catch one. Maybe he can. It suddenly seems possible. Silver laughs, and Flint leans back against him.

‘Hey, Madi,’ Silver murmurs, then turns to see she’s heading back to the party. She pauses. ‘Why’re you only showing us?’

She shrugs. ‘You’re not from here. I thought you might not have seen them before.’

But her grin is a little too clever for that.

‘You should bring Eme down here,’ Silver suggests.

‘When you two are done,’ she answers.

Flint twists, still staying in Silver’s arms, and signs to her: _Thank you._

She gives him a nod, and then she’s gone.

They stay until Silver’s boots start to sink into the mud. Flint shifts his weight, and has to offer his shoulders for Silver to lean on as they get up the hill, pausing one more time to look back at the twinkling glade.

 _It’s funny,_ Silver shakes his head. _I guess I never really believed they were real._

 _Do you know,_ Flint smiles. _Ever since Easter, I’ve stopped questioning if things are too good to be true._

Silver laughs. _Speaking of him: do you want a s’more?_

They follow the fence line, circling the growing throng of people at the tables. As they get closer to the bonfire, Silver realises the children are surprisingly quiet. He catches sight of Thomas, close to the fire and showing them how to keep their hands safe while they slowly toast their marshmallows. Some younger children have formed an assembly line pre-warming the graham crackers and the chocolate near the fire. More than one child is gesticulating enthusiastically, in a rough approximation of signing.

 _That was quick,_ Silver says to Flint.

 _He has a knack for it,_ Flint rolls his eyes like it’s no great feat.

 _Hello!_ Thomas greets them, after ensuring his latest apprentice is getting an even roast with her fork. _You’re just in time._

Without further ceremony, he takes two forks loaded with marshmallows and puts them in Flint and Silver’s hands. _Keep turning. Don’t let it catch fire._

Silver tries to make conversation, but finds a marshmallow fork takes both hands and all his concentration. He sits down on a log beside Flint, pressing their bodies together. Flint bumps his knee affectionately, and they watch as Thomas shows an older child different words as she types them on her phone. Silver almost drops his marshmallow in the embers before Flint brings his attention back to it.

The moment their marshmallows are golden all over and starting to droop off the fork, a boy has arrived to deliver the other ingredients. They thank him in ASL—he thanks them back in kind—and start putting the s’mores together. Thomas interjects to tell them: _A little bit longer, let the chocolate melt..._

And then Silver is shoving a warm crunchy gooey sweet toasty mess into his mouth. He has to check his beard for crumbs, and lick marshmallow fluff off his fingers. Then he announces: _Thomas, this is the best s’more I’ve ever eaten_.

 _Today, marshmallows, tomorrow, first grade,_ Flint predicts.

Thomas smirks. In the firelight, his eyes look an entirely different colour. He gasps and Flint’s breath blooms at his neck, a kiss snuck under Silver’s ear while the children are busy. He leans in, letting his hair create further cover for Flint, and Thomas winks at him.

 _The fireworks must be soon,_ Thomas says, as Flint disentangles himself. Silver squirms on the log. _I’m told this is your favourite holiday?_

 _He likes revolutions,_ Silver gestures at Flint, grinning. _I like sausage._

Flint elbows him hard.

 _You should get back up the hill if you don’t want to miss the show,_ Thomas says to Flint. Flint hesitates and Thomas waves him off. _Don’t wait for me._

Silver’s knee itches from the heat of the fire, but at least the joint doesn’t complain when he gets up from the log. He keeps an arm around Flint as they venture up the hill, but it’s more companionable than supportive. People are clustering around the balcony, right where the bay is in full view. Silver and Flint pick a spot to the side.

Flint tugs his hand, pointing down at the city. Lights are fizzling out from the first starburst, too far away to hear. Silver squeezes Flint tight by his side as more of them explode, a few shows visible at once. The sky lights up in reds and blues, flashing and twinkling everywhere. Flint wraps his arms around Silver, and Silver wriggles happily in the embrace. The humidity and the itchiness and the lingering saccharine taste in his mouth don’t matter, not when the city is glowing with smoke and the sea is full of stars.

Madi and Eme are making their way around the crowd bearing a fistful of sparklers. Madi hands one each to Flint and Silver, and Eme holds her lit sparkler against theirs until they’re both ignited.

Silver laughs as gunpowder fills his nostrils, watching the sparks dance and vanish in the air. He draws loops and whorls in the sky, while Flint makes shapes in an imaginary script. They weave their lines together, fast and random and bursting with joy, until the light is imprinted into Silver’s vision. When his sparkler fizzes out he rocks on his heel, blinking away the after-images while Flint fumbles beside him. He can still see the faint glow of it, almost making sense of their scribbles. He reaches out a hand to trace the fading shape of it and bumps into Flint, laughing.

Flint is steady as a rock, letting Silver readjust to the twilight. Silver grasps for Flint’s hand and startles when he realises Flint’s holding something. A box. Silver traces the shape of it: small, hard on the outside, padded inside, then cold, smooth, curving, metal.

A ring.

Silver takes it out of the box. The world doesn’t quite feel real, as if this too is made of light, about to vanish. But it’s heavy in his palm, warming quickly to the heat of his skin, its edges hard and certain under his fingertip.

He looks up at Flint, whose face is crumpled with anxiety, and entirely real. Flint starts to say: _You don’t have to decide n—_

 _—Yes,_ Silver interrupts, a laugh bubbling out of him. Flint gently takes the ring from his palm, holding it out. Silver realises his hand is trembling as he spreads his fingers. Something in Silver urges him to doubt it, to ask Flint if he’s sure, but the look on Flint’s face is so timid, so uncertain, that Silver needs to be certain instead. And he is. He is. The ring slips over his knuckles, coming to rest on his finger like it belongs there.

 _How did you get it the right size?_ Silver asks. There are a million other questions, but that one comes out of him first.

 _I stole your octopus ring,_ Flint confesses.

_You stole my octopus ring?!_

‘YOU SAID YES!’ Madi hollers, making Silver jump. She plants an enormously wet kiss on his cheek.

 _Finally!_ she signs at Flint before giving him the same treatment.

 _I had a plan, Madi,_ Flint can’t hide his smile.

 _Fireflies, Flint!_ Madi gestures in frustration. _We had actual fireflies!_

Flint waves her off, meeting Silver’s eyes. Then he’s almost bowled over by Thomas clapping him on the shoulder and pulling them both into a bear hug. When they’re free, Madi has brought a lantern over so they can all see each other better.

Silver frowns. _What about Thomas?_

Before Flint answers, Thomas says: _You can’t marry me, I’m already married._

Flint shoves him for the deliberate misunderstanding.

Thomas chuckles. _Although_ ** _I_** _could marry_ ** _you._** _How do I get ordained?_

 _Teaching credentials first,_ Flint tells him sternly. He draws Silver closer, near the light, where the other two aren’t crowding them.

 _Look,_ he says. _I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Longer than Thomas coming back. And I realised, when it happened, it didn’t change my mind._

 _Okay,_ Silver nods. Either it’s got smoky again, or his eyes are just watering for some other reason. _If you’re sure, then… okay._

 _Really okay?_ Flint meets his eyes, searching. Silver loves every hopeful crinkle in Flint’s expression. _Because there’s an apple pie to celebrate._

 _Oh my god, yes,_ Silver grins. _Wait! One condition. We’re moving out of a three-level house and living somewhere_ ** _flat._**

 _Anywhere you like,_ Flint promises, pulling him in for a kiss. They don’t stop until long after they should, until Silver is breathless and they’re mostly just bumping noses and laughing, until it’s definitely not just smoke in Silver’s eyes.

 _Did you really choose tonight because you love revolutions?_ Silver asks.

Flint shakes his head, smiling. _I wanted to see you light up._

Later, there is apple pie, and for a long time after that, there is coffee.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so, so much for all the comments. I never expected this story to mean so much, to me or to anyone else. It's been wonderful.


End file.
